Bachelor Boy
by adumbratus
Summary: Ludwig has finished School, but has no experience in life whatsoever - especially in sexual terms. When he stumbles into a gay bar on accident, a possibility to change that appears... GerIta - Gilbert believes firmly to be heterosexual. Visiting his gay friend in his equally gay bar he can't help but be immensely annoyed by this stupid (attractive) brunet at the bar... PruAus
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am back. I had/hate writer's block, but today it suddenly, luckily, disappeared. Today I am horny for ( Is that even right?) writing good quality stuff while listening to Mozart. Haha. I even found out how to format things. Amazing. Praise me!**

* * *

 _In Germany there are three types of schools you can go to after primary school. They all differ in their niveau and offer therefore a different type of degree._

 _I have made out the by all means discriminating and horribly generalizing assumption that your "level" of education equals your sexual experience. But it weirdly fits to most of my surroundings._

" _We", the Abiturienten (comparable to high-school graduates), are most of the time ridiculously inexperienced in sexual and also life terms. We are the theorists. We can do route mapping theoretically, but we don't know how to do our tax declaration. And some, sadly, don't even seem to have developed social skills…_

 _Why don't they teach us to be nice to each other?_

 _I'm sorry, Chopin makes me sentimental. I should switch back to Mozart… Wait a moment._

 _So, where have we taken leave of our lesson?_

 _Ah. Most of my friends, especially the "good" students (including me… cough.), didn't even have sex yet (the thing you always wanted to know…for sure.)._

 _The ones who left the "Gymnasium" earlier for the real life, mostly already had._

 _We were so busy with our education and grades we didn't even have had time to do fun things :D. And were left to be "innocent" dorks. And this is where our "story" begins…_

* * *

Bachelor Boy

Ludwig finally, eventual had his degree. He wouldn't have to go to school _ever_ \- well, if he wouldn't become a teacher that is. He was free now. He could do anything he wanted now.

 _Anything._

What was…

Well, that was actually the problem: He didn't know.

On the first days after finishing school, he lazed around on his couch and didn't move. He even let his room become a mess. His brother had thought he had maybe become seriously ill, so the disorderliness had only lasted for one day or so, until Ludwig heft to his feet to tidy up.

His brother had gifted a car to him. A car he had bought cheaply and repaired and it was driving wonderfully. His brother was a "simple" mechanic, even though he was highly intelligent. Ludwig had asked him one time, if he had given up his further education for him, after their parents had died, someone had to pay for their living – but Gilbert had always denied. Gilbert had gotten request from big automotive-companies to work for them in differing positions – he had always declined the offer. Ludwig had asked him so many times "For god's sake, _why_?" and he had explained always in the same way:

"Why do they want me to work for them? Because I am the genius they are searching for, they are needing to have, like they're preaching to me in their letters? No. They want me, because I promise the possibility to rake in money and they do know it. I know that my ideas would be in better hands in our chimney than in theirs. The german economy needs workers. But when you die, they will exchange you. So don't work for them."

But what should he do else? An inspector? A doctor? A lawyer?

The whole internet was built of entries in forums with reasons, why he should not do something. And his whole mailbox was made out of letters with reasons, why he, with his outstanding degree, _should_ do something.

He thought he would feel satisfied after his degree. He had a good one. An exceptionally good one. That was mostly what "they" cared about. That his head and heart felt somewhat empty, no one cared about.

Admittedly he did not know that his brother prayed every night for him to make the right decisions in his life and be happy. But he assumed that his brother had given up going drinking with his friends for a few months to purchase the car and turn it into a navigable vehicle.

And that was why he felt so guilty that it had stopped now being navigable on some shady corner street of their town and that he didn't know _why_. It had rattled weirdly and he had barely managed to drive it onto the road shoulder. He had to call a mechanic. Better not his brother though. He needed a phone book and, of course, a phone.

* * *

Luckily there had been a bar. It didn't really look decent, but it had the few things Ludwig was in need of at the moment: the phone, the fitting book and a restroom.

He hadn't noticed that men _only_ were present here. _If_ he had realized into which "establishment" he had gone, he would have most likely ran out blushing.

The mechanic had said he had a hardship of a case right now, if Ludwig could wait for a bit. Of course, not only could he, he also _had_ to. His brother was at home and if he noticed that Ludwig would come home in a cab… oh dear. If he would just stay away into the night, Gilbert would maybe call him, but then he would assume Ludwig had met someone, a nice girl or so, like his brother hoped for him, since a lot time.

One time Gilbert had even asked Ludwig if he was possibly more into… men.

"What are you saying, Bruder?", Ludwig had exclaimed and stared at him horrified.

He was not homophobic, _no,_ by all means not, but _he_ was not gay. Definitely not.

Even though most of the surrounding men thought differently for obvious reasons?

Normally men didn't stumble into a gay bar on accident.

And Ludwig was quite attractive, a new one and so shy and unexperienced. If not to say: Completely clueless.

"What can I get you, mon cher?", a blonde waiter asked him.

"A lemonade, please."

"A lemonade you say…", Francois smirked, "As you wish, mon cher."

"Don't hit on him, Francois,", Antonio, Francois friend at the bar, hissed, "maybe he is underage."

"One needs to find out.", the blonde one laughed, "He wants lemonade."

"Francois, I don't believe everybody talks in sexual metaphors like you.", Gilbert sighed. He was sitting with his back to his brother and didn't care much about Francois "interests", so he didn't turn around.

* * *

"Hi.", a widely smiling, tanned boy flopped onto the bench seat towards Ludwig.

"Uh, hello.", he smiled back, "Can I… help you with something in any way?"

That was the time for something bold. And Feliciano was _so totally_ going for it.

"Well…", he glanced innocently at the ceiling, wetted his lips and curled them into a pout, "You could…", he spoke quietly, so Ludwig had to lean in to understand him, "come with me to the bathroom and fuck me raving.", he tried to let his eyes glow seductively, when Ludwig spit his lemonade, that had in the meanwhile arrived, all over the table and began to choke on the leftovers in his trachea.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry, I'm sorry~!", Feliciano jumped to his feet and hit the blonde man right between the shoulder blades to make the coughing stop.

After both had calmed down, a blush exploded over Feliciano's face. He'd swear, he never had been that red in his face before.

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Feliciano gestured wildly with his hands, while staring at the floor and said something about having to go.

Ludwig just sat there dumbfounded. What the heck had been _that_?

"Oh… Feliciano was seemingly turned down…", Antonio frowned.

"What idiot has done that shit?!", Gilbert angrily remarked.

"I don't know. He sits at a corner table. Get up and see for yourself. Blondehead or something."

"No,", Gilbert grumbled, "I'm drunk and I'm lazy, I will not get up for that loser."

* * *

Feliciano had stormed of for the bathroom, locked himself in one stall and began to cry. He had never been so humiliated and embarrassed in his life _ever._ His self-confidence had dropped from 99,9% to zero. He had taken his mouth too full. Also that muscular blonde sexiness was probably a level too high for him. He hadn't been flirting with men for a long time. He knew all about girls, but that was mostly useless knowledge since he had realized, he was gay. And that sexy guy probably knew other sexy guys and they would meet up for a sexy-man-drinking-evening and he would tell them that such a tiny skinny twink with a mouth big enough to take in 6 dicks, but not enough brain to figure out what was in his league and what was not.

* * *

 **A/N: As you can see I am planning to go on with this. I am actually surprised how patient and concentrated I have been while writing this today. Mozart is recommendable.**

 **I am asking you to please tell me your opinions, I am so _greedy_ for reviews :D.**

 **Stay healthy and happy, x, C.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Excuse me?", a deep voice echoed through the men's bathroom. A perfect bass, low enough to make shivers run down every man and woman's spine. The voice was as perfect as the man belonging to it. And while the sexiness-sensors of everyone in the room had gone off, Feliciano had, of course, been the only one to be as stupid as to talk to him. The blonde Adonis was a gentleman, he had to go after him. Feliciano pressed his hands over his face to suffocate the sobs, leaking out of his chest. What had he thought? What the _heck_ had he thought?!

One time, when they had argued, his brother had said he probably didn't think anything at all. He had apologized immediately after, their grandpa had said once, no one with a heart in his chest could stand Feliciano's hurt face. Maybe that was even another reason why the attractive stranger had come after him. But Feliciano didn't want to face him. While he thought, he was quite good looking on normal terms, now he was a complete mess. His face was covered in tears and snot, his eyes were red and his hair probably completely out of control. Also his way too tight pants hurt his belly and he feared he would have bruises on his legs tomorrow morning. He was feeling like a girl on her period. He of course never _had_ a period, but he imagined that _that_ must have been what it's like.

"Are you alright?", the voice asked him. It was soft and tender. Worried.

"Yes.", Feliciano tried to suppress a sniff. He wasn't good at lying and acting. Not at all. "I am fine."

The door moved slightly. Feliciano checked hurriedly, if it was really locked. The stranger placed his hand on the outside of the door.

"It doesn't really sound like 'fine'."

Feliciano wished toilet stalls had mirrors, so he could check how bad it was. He had used his camera phone to check on his looks, but the stall was just a little too dark to see properly.

"No, really, everything's alright." Feliciano tried to make it sound like he was smiling. This guy must think he was a psycho-wreck. Or really desperate. Or both. Maybe he was. Both.

"Then why are you crying?"

And really stupid. Or oblivious. Or both.

"You don't need to look after me. You've got no responsibility."

"What responsibility?"

"For me. I am alright. Go away! Just..." Feliciano bit his tongue. He almost had said "fuck off." He had a bit of a temper. And the thought that this stranger was just shuffling after him, because he had hurt that little stupid puppy was-

"I seem to have hurt you. Therefore I carry responsibility."

Feliciano kept quiet.

"I don't know what I have done, but I want to make it alright again."

Feliciano placed his hand on the stall door. He had the feeling he could feel the energy of the other boy's hand radiating through the cheap material of the stall door, had the feeling he could feel his warmth and the rhythm of his heartbeat. This man's word sounded serious and caring. He didn't make fun of the ridiculousness of a boy sitting in a toilet cabin and crying his eyes out, because he had been turned down. Most other men had called him a "stupid thing". Maybe he was. Maybe that man was thinking that too. But still he was so nice, so patient, so kind.

Feliciano unlocked the stall. For a few seconds nothing moved. When the door wasn't opening from the outside, he gripped the knob. Maybe the stranger had gone? No. He could still feel his energy. What a weird thing to feel someone's presence that clearly.

The mahogany-haired opened the door just a bit and loomed out of it with his red eyes. There he was standing. Furrowing his brow. Slightly insecure, slightly confused.

"You have done nothing wrong. It was all..."

He was so beautiful. Not only that he was immensely attractive, that was in this moment just a side dish to enjoy at the end of the meal, he was so warm. His attractiveness seemed to be there for... much more. He was radiating an inviting warmth. A soul and body one just wanted to snuggle into. He would hold him. He would calm him. Protect him. With two broad shoulders with a heart and a head in between and two arms to hug him close, whenever he wanted and needed it. Secureness. And so much of it. This man could be so full of love, if he wanted. He didn't know about the blonde himself, but Feliciano wanted him to. And he wanted to give it back. All of that warm and sometimes burningly hot spark.

He didn't even notice that he had grabbed the man's sharp picturesque jaw and pulled him down to his perspective. He only noticed, once their energies connected and flowed over their lips into their bodies. Feliciano let his hand slide down the slender neck and gripped the collar of the blonde's trench coat. The taller man stumbled still linked to him into the bathroom stall. The door closed and their hearts opened. And they fell down and round and for each other.

This kiss seemed to happen in another dimension. When the time stopped in this moment, destiny created a room for them, where no time and no rules and no regrets existed. And no thinking. Ludwig hadn't thought about the thinking at all. One didn't have to think about an angel's lips. You just do kiss them.


	3. Chapter 3

Master Mind – Gilbert's Part

Gilbert insisted on it. As he insisted on many things. And most of the time he was proven wrong. Francis swore he had to give up a research study if the Beilschmidt family had bigger skulls than normal human beings. Their stubbornness was so very excruciating, it had to be genetical.

They could intoxicate the albino and let him hook up with a dude - Gilbert would still say his dick swayed for women. And _only_ for them. Francis could also live with Gilbert admitting being bi-sexual, if he just admitted, he had _something_ for men, no matter how small it was. But as it seemed, Gilbert had to be converted by himself and _only_ himself. What was about to happen hopefully in the not-so-distant future, because Gilbert was glancing over to the brunet man sitting on the bar already for the fifth time.

"Oh? Do you find him attractive?"

"What?" Gilbert was already slightly intoxicated. Well... - screw the "slightly", "Oh... no! He ticks me off."

Francis just raised an eyebrow on that.

"He wears a _cravat_. That jabot shit."

"It's not shit, Gilbert, it's French."

"Jup," the albino smirked, "exactly what I said."

Francis rolled his eyes. Gilbert despised French people and Francis was an "exception". But Gilbert had something to nag on everybody and everyone. He also didn't like homosexuals. Even though he was himself, now, and practically every weekend in a gay bar. But he was, of course, not gay. _As if._

Gilbert stood up. Antonio pulled his sleeve: "Dear god, Gilbert, just for once, mon amigo, go the easy and _normal_ way and buy the charming man a drink."

"As if I'd spend money on that prissy preppy prim and proper puppet with a vibrator stick up the ass." Gilbert shook off Antonio's grip.

"Alliterations for insults." Antonio frowned.

"He reads too much. We should also buy him a 'vibrator stick'."

"Francis!" Antonio scolded him playfully and then started to giggle immediately after that.

"You.", Gilbert began. He had actually no plan, but that was maybe a good beginning for ... god knows what. Someone needed to teach that priss manners. Well, actually he was just sitting there politely drinking his wine. But that dress code! So flamboyant! The trousers were fitting really well. Showing off that nice ass so... unashamed. Well, yeah, he had a nice ass, Gilbert had to give him that. But that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Neither for that priss nor for Gilbert himself. But actually, actually that dress code was completely alright since they were in a gay bar and those, those were just normal trousers, but there _had_ to be something to scold because that man was ticking Gilbert off immensely. And now that man raised a nicely curved brown eyebrow at him. So arrogant with his nice high and round cheekbones, the white baby-soft skin, the tenderly framed glasses and the softly waved chocolate brown hair. He looked like the man who turned down at least 10 men in 2 hours and that was why _Gilbert_ wanted to be the one who turned _him_ down.

* * *

 **I guess the chapters are rather short, but this post is nevertheless historically important: I wrote three chapters. Mark it in your calendar! :D Thank you so much for your glorious support. It has helped me so much. 3**


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert couldn't exactly remember _what_ he had said, but it had been a lot and quite unstructured, out of context, passionate and random. That was just how he was. His brother always scolded him that he was thinking too much about unnecessary things. This was probably an occasion where he should have put more thought into his words. Of course he didn't. And of course he was moments before realizing that circumstance with a little help from the man from the bar that could as well be classified as 'beautiful'. That man didn't even speak a word to him. He just stood up from his seat, in a perfectly calm and gracious manner, stood in front of Gilbert, reached out his hand and slapped him one time on the cheek. The brunet was already sitting again, when Gilbert realized that _this_ had, indeed, really happened. Even though it couldn't have. This man had small hands, even though they were delicate and elegant, but nonetheless _tiny_ ones for a man's. But this dude had whipped him like a high-class 500-euro-an-hour dominatrix, who crunched your throat with her polished latex plateau-boot and smiled down at you in an angelic manner at the same time. This man had _devious_ hands. What the fuck _had happened_? Gilbert's cheek burned fiery and he heard a few guys giggle due to his misery and failure. He turned around slowly and returned to his friends who were already awaiting him.

"Wow, that are for sure nice fingerprints on your cheek, mon ami. Maybe you should ask him, if he's able to tattoo his number in there as well. I should get you a cool pack."

"Thank you, but I don't need one." Gilbert sat down on his bar stool like someone had told him just now, he was made out of porcelain.

"Are you sure?" Antonio poked his flaming cheek, "That sure looks like it's hurting a lot."

"I don't need one!" Gilbert snapped. His hands thundered down on the surface of the bar. Antonio retreated his finger slowly and kept quiet, while Francis just kept drying off a freshly-washed wine glass and hissed through his teeth: "Someone's certainly not in a good mood..."

The other customers at the bar looked a little shocked at Gilbert's fuming form who tried to calm himself just a little for the sake of his own dignity. But there, when he glanced over the rows of faces who were looking at him like gossiping grannies immediately running off to their coiffeur to tell them the newest news, he caught an eye on some particular well shaped features: The man looked at him - a cheetah searching out one prey out of the flock to eat tonight. His thin and nicely-curved lips were smiling just a tiny bit at the corners, but his almost violet eyes had a mischievous amused glint in them. A cat. Just like a cat. A cat wanting to play. He took a sip of his cocktail through one of that odd bulgy black drinking straws, too big for his lips and the cocktail too bright for his preppy-self. And he was still looking at him. He was drinking, sucking, even though Gilbert _of course_ didn't notice what an indecent gesture that was, and _still_ looking at him. Was he flirting? No, as if, he wasn't flirting and IF he was flirting, Gilbert sure wasn't picking up on that. But he wasn't flirting. His eyes were saying "I won. You fool... So? What are you gonna do _now_?"

Gilbert snapped again. Twice in five minutes. This guy was absolutely a danger for his blood pressure. His doctor would say "please refrain from drinking, smoking and dealing with pretty little _sexy_ but annoying cats". No, not sexy. No... His doctor would say "eat healthy, sleep well, have an awful lot of good sex - and everything will be fine. Just fine. Just don't deal with that sexy bitch anymore. Just don't. Just-"

Leaving aside that no doctor would actually say that (if he does, you should maybe think about changing your medical support...), Gilbert had already stood up. No, he _jumped_ up. He knocked his chair over and almost his beer, raced over to that whore and knocked him off his feet. No. Not literally, like they fell in love and shit. That was taking place in the romance novels his brother read and hid them so desperately under his bed. Gilbert read a lot too, but he was smart. Smart enough to know that there was a romance possibility percentage of... something around zero for him. And he knew his place. He had no degree, had not studied any shit, he was a mechanic surrounded by oil and rust and metal. And therefore he knocked that prissy something with his playful smirk, the stick in his ass and the barstool to the ground. If this asshole thought he was an idiot, he could just as well show him how impolite, rude and uneducated he was. This shit would breath his armpits and suffocate under his muscles. Disgusting. But who deserved what? He seated himself quite comfortably on the other one's lap and wanted to slap him. Should all of that people remember him as ill violent tartar. Should they. Gilbert had also quite a low percentage of being accepted _anywhere_. He was quite intelligent, but he didn't have the status to actually show it off. He really didn't even _wanted_ to have the status, because most people in the upper-class-areas (like this guy under him probably) were fake and he hated that whole... fake. But sometimes, sometimes he had wanted to be like Sherlock Holmes. But that dream had died. Long ago. He prepared to punch, when:

"Brother?"

He looked up. No. What? Nononono... _how even_?!

Cemented blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a swaying black trench coat with a carefully tied silk scarf - his brother looked like a duke.

"Uuh..."

Gilbert's mind melted.

1\. You're in a gay bar.

2\. He's in a gay bar.

3\. You're sitting with your legs spread on another guy.

4\. Everyone can see that you're about to punch that other guy.

5\. Everyone relates that violent man (you) to your brother.

6\. E.g. that priss, who is probably a member of the upper class.

Conclusion: You have properly ruined your and your brother's reputation in a few seconds, also your relationship is probably ruined, congratulation's you _are_ an idiot.

"Could you maybe, mhh, _get off me_?!"

"I could get you off..." Gilbert said with a dead serious face. Nobody laughed. And his other cheek hurt too after that.

* * *

 **I am very sorry for possible mistakes. I would have re-read it better, but I am very tired and exhausted. Went swimming like a maniac today. :)**

 **Thank you for your wonderful comments. They make me so very happy.**

 **Stay happy and healthy. C. x**


	5. Chapter 5

Feliciano's throat had wanted to break out a horrified shriek to express his hurt. So much like somebody had died. This man in front of him, just stood there,

Again, like a stranger. This man he had, just now, just a few seconds ago, given his heart to through his lips. It had melted so heavenly. And now it shattered even more brutally.

There was this man in his coat, completely unaware of the hurt and pain of his opposite, completely oblivious to the thoughts racing through his brain and piercing down into his heart and guts.

"I... I... excuse me, I hadn't known, that... this is a gay bar?" He pointed towards the white and ill looking tiles under his feet like this joint on the men's bathroom floor there holding the whole picture together was the manifestation that _this_ was indeed a place for gay men.

"Yes."

He had just played along with it, let Feliciano kiss him, like humans sigh and shake their head when a horny dog tries to mate with their shinbone. It was useless. Feliciano felt stupid. Once again. And the fact was that, with this kind, wonderful, attractive man, he felt more used than ever with any other asshole. Even though it wasn't even intended. From one minute to the other the kiss didn't exist anymore. The portal to the new dimension had shut and the remaining energy around them collapsed.

"I am sorry."

"It is alright." a small smile curled upon the tan one's lips. A tad awkward, but a very polite nice, a very normal smile. But normal meant in no way real.

They could still become great friends, now that that small meaningless and dreadful chapter of their beginning was erased, couldn't they?

Feliciano washed his hands, like he did some normal toilet stuff and dried the snot off his face with a paper towel, wiped his hands on his too-tight trousers. How senseless.

They disappeared into the pub, just like they had casually met on the loo. A small business talk, how the weather was, in a gay bar.

* * *

Feliciano was angry. So very angry and sad at the same time. He couldn't even really tell _why_. It was just the case. Like it was just the case that the beautiful stranger was straight. Straight like a ruler. And he cried like a little dog over that fact. And about him being gay and _stupid_. And unfortunately gay for that beautiful stranger. And and and...

And his big brother overheard him. Because he was even too dumb to cry quiet enough. There had been times when he had wanted his brother to hear him, when he had wanted it. But now, of all times, that wasn't the case. No. He wanted to grief alone.

"What is it?"

Feliciano took a breath. A deep and long one, for a moment he almost wanted to spill it all out uncontrolled like his tears.

"...Nothing."

"Why are you crying then, idiot."

So reminiscent.

Lovino hadn't worked at the bar today. He wouldn't have approved. He said Feliciano shouldn't go to muscleheads. All machos. All idiots. Feliciano wished he could say that he was _right_ , but that blonde boy had done nothing _wrong_.

"It's..."

"So tell now, bastard, I don't have all night, I have to sleep, I have to work, you..."

When Lovino was worrying, he became aggressive.

"Just a heartache. I got... turned down."

"Oh...o-oh." Lovino sighed, sounded relieved and annoyed at the same time.

"That'll go away. ' wasn't worth it then. Probably some bastard again, I know my idiot-brother's taste." he cursed, but he smiled. And he left. And in that moment Feliciano wanted him to stay. But Lovino had to sleep. And to work... it would go away.

No.

It wouldn't.

Lovino knew this. He closed the door and leaned against it. His brother cried often. Had been a little crybaby and stayed one. But he had never cried like this. _Looked_ like this. He should go and kill that bastard. He should go and kill that other one too. Because he all knew too well by own experience that... sometimes it didn't go away.

* * *

"Why did he kick _me_ out? I didn't do anything wrong..."

"You provoked me."

"I? You were just absolutely blunt _and_ rude."

"You were overly present."

"Excuse me? I was just sitting there when you came around like-"

"Psst.", Feliciano raised his hands and everybody obeyed, "I know a kebab shop just 'round the corner where we can go and sit down and eat, sí?"

"Why would I want some -"

"Ok, we'll go." Gilbert grabbed his brother and Feliciano by the sleeves and dragged them along.

"Hey! Uh..." Roderich solved his crossed arms, looked if anyone was seeing him and then dashed after them, "Wait for me!"

He was not a fast runner. When he found the restaurant, the three were already sitting round a table. It was not hard to find them, the kebab shop's windows were glowing brightly into the night and the tables in the eating area were quite lonely. No one was sitting there, only a dude who seemed to be _extremely_ wasted sat on the counter and slept.

The chief of the restaurant was quite happy and whirled around them, even though everyone only ordered a simple classic kebab. Feliciano knew this shop quite well. He had often been here, in the middle of the night, crying about his brother being, in general, an asshole, his grandfather not accepting his sexuality, asshole-men, heartache... He couldn't go to any Italian restaurant because he feared they would tell his grandfather _everything_. And his grandfather didn't like his... gayness. When he had nowhere to run to in the middle of the night, he had just walked around, crying and was asked by the kebab man out of the selling window towards the street what the heck was wrong. And he was invited to free food and a packet of paper tissues and someone who listened.

Gilbert still stared at the guy who seemed to be called "Roderich". God, the name _screamed_ priss. He sat there, with a straight back and his hands folded in his lap. Gilbert asked himself how the hell he would eat a kebab. His mouth seemed too tiny. He would get tzatziki sprinkled all over his lips. He would wipe the residue flour of the bread away and get red stains on his white skin. He would get herbs stuck in between his teeth. He would have to open his mouth wide, his lips would stretch and bruise, to get it some way in, somehow... - oh god.

"Brother? Are you alright?"

Gilbert wiggled his legs nervously and clenched his hands.

"Yes. Yeah, just a little... hyperactive."

"Roderich" glanced sideways at him. The fluorescent lights of the shop reflected in his glasses. His look caught on Gilbert's hands clenching around the rim of his chair.

"Just'a little.", Roderich mumbled for nobody to hear except Gilbert and glanced up from the clenched hands to look the albino directly into his eyes. Ludwig and Feliciano were talking about something.

"What did you say?"

"Me? Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all.", and then he _smiled_ again. This time his lips _and_ eyes were smiling, surprisingly. In the next moment he started to wiggle his legs to in a similar manner like Gilbert. The albino reached out his hand, aggressively and pressed down one wiggling leg at the knee. He's making fun of me, he's making -

What he didn't expect, though, was Roderich's own hand placing itself on top of his and caressing the back of his with the thumb. The thumb. Thump. Thump. He retreated his hand immediately. Horrified he looked over to his brother. Had he noticed something? No. He hadn't. He was talking excitedly with Feliciano. Deeply enveloped into conversation with the kind cutie.

Check, his brother hadn't noticed.

A pair of slender voluptuous lips leaned its way towards Gilbert's ear and while the hot breath caressed the skin enough, the voice caressed the rest: "My territory, my rules."

Gilbert sat straight like a soldier on his seat immediately. Like someone had shot a lightning up his spine.

What the...? What the hell - who the fuck, uh... who the fuck did this guy think he was exactly?! He wanted to say something, opened his mouth, but thought he should better think his words through with that... that... maniac! But he should say something _now_ because otherwise the battle is lost anyway, you cannot strike back one week later after the enemy attacked! But, but, but his tongue got tangled in his dry mouth, he could not even swallow anymore, his shirt collar was too tight and blocking all of the air. He knew the signs all to well, but that had nothing to do with _him_ , it had been all just _way too long_ and that man was fogging up his mind and confusing his brain with his stupid tactics. All that this Roderich wanted was to make a fool out of him. Delivering a punch into the ribs, right under the heart saying "Look, here, here's your pride."

* * *

 **Here's a longer chapter. Maybe you'd like to tell me, if you like the shorter or the longer ones better. I am thinking of turning that whole thing into a bigger AU. This part could contain GerIta, PruAus and Spamano, while I am thinking about a second one with FrUk, UsUk and Franada. Also, I think about starting a blog. If all of that happens, you'll get to know at least through my profile.**

 **When this is going to turn into a big thing, I should search for a beta reader. Someone who'd like to be one? Message me, please.** **Please excuse any mistakes. I tried to correct every single one…**

 **I originally wanted to post yesterday, but I guess all of you have heard of Munich… I was shocked and very very sad. It was probably "only" a person running amok with no Islamist background, but horrible nonetheless. He called out on Facebook before for especially young people, who he would "treat at McDonald's".**

 **#PrayForMunich**


End file.
